


Verbis Diablo

by Lidsworth



Series: Verbis Diablo [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Inspired by Penny Dreadful, Possesion, supernatural powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7946383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidsworth/pseuds/Lidsworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maglor has his own personal reasons for leaving his brother to die in Thangorodrim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Verbis Diablo

**Author's Note:**

> If you follow my on tumblr, you know I love Penny Dreadful. And to me, Vanessa and Maglor have a lot of similarities. So, i got inspired by the show to do this. I don't think many people watch Penny Dreadful, or have a knack for the paranormal like i do. So well see how many people like this!  
> It's a WIP, so there may be mistakes.

It began long ago in Valinor, sometime during the Year of Trees.

Though the memory itself is quite hazy (as are _all_ of his memories regarding his possessions), Maglor recalls the small, meaningful bits, the parts that he struggled explaining to his parents or anyone for that matter.

There are hands on his harp—and for perhaps five seconds, they are _his_ hands plucking at the stiff strings and it is _his_ voice that accompanies the instrument. Taken by his own music, his eyes flutter closed, barely registering the looming shadow darkening the courtyard where he resides.

“ _Beautiful”_ The voiceless whisper renders him stiff, near petrified. There are fingers like ice atop of his head, a mock gesture of affection, branching from his scalp and freezing his entire body.

**_You_ ** _will sing **my** music. You will be **my** Herald._

With such a frightening proclamation, he becomes a walking oxymoron all at once.

His body is a bag of bricks. Yet his body as light as a feather. So light he is, that at one point the bard is levitating above his seat, feet dangling mere inches over the marble bench. An uncomfortable pressure squeezes waist, as if there is a tight robe wrapped around him, causing his body to bend backwards as he hangs.

The back of his head touches the back of his calves, and his dark hair sweeps the ground.

To his utter horror he still sings, yet the music is not beautiful, and it feels as if shards of glass have emended themselves into his throat. Words—horrible, ugly words—he shouts at the top of his lunges, hurling the obscene, _foul_ language into the pure air of Valinor.

More than anything, he yearns to blame the change in voice on his award posture; bent all the way backwards, floating in the air, that is. But to his dismay, he speaks as if something else has taken over his voice.

What happens next he doesn’t remember; though when he comes back to himself, the courtyard is destroyed, and Maglor himself is a mess of robes and hair on the ground. The voice is nothing but a small echo in the back of his head, yet it is there nonetheless (it is _always_ there).

Explaining the condition of the courtyard to his parents and brothers is useless. This is Valinor, nothing uncanny such as possession happens. And there are certainly no floating elves or deep voices in the back of one’s mind.

The “accident” as they dub it, is kept silent by the family, and promptly fades into memory people simply stop bringing it up (though the voice does not stop, and Maglor, in sweat and tears, prays to Eru and begs him for peace every day).

It isn’t until much later, when he hears Melkor at the doors of Formenos attempting to bargain with his father, does he realize that the voice in his head was that of Morgoth (for it baits him to the door, baits him to join his Lord), and that his unfortunate accident in the courtyard was indeed a result of a sort of possession.

And when he falls into a similar trance later the same day, and wakes to find his room a mess of torn bedsheets and tattered curtains, does he then learn to stay as far away from Melkor as possible (no matter what the reason), for he fears he has only witnessed a portion of his destructiveness.

He dreads what devastation he will unleash when he is within arm’s length of the Vala.

So when his brother is taken captive by the Dark Lord himself (and Maglor _knows_ this before anyone else, knows that Morgoth has taken Matimo, for the voice within is a shrill laugh in his head, taunting him with the vile screams and wails of his eldest brother) , and he, as the second eldest is pressured by his council to ride into the gates of Angband and bargain with Morgoth, he refuses.

His presence beside his Lord would do more harm than good.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Please tell me if you did! I'm always open to critiques! Tbh, I'm working on a fic where Maglor and Vanessa do meet on the sea shore, I think they would have an odd connection.


End file.
